Crazy Ramblings
by Luff Bunny
Summary: A fae gone bad...
1. Beginning or end?

This doesn't belong to me

The Beginning or the End?

I guess you could say I was always quiet, never spoke really. That was my talent, I could make people think I wasn't really there, because by the time they noticed me I was gone. That was my trade, my birthright, I was a Changeling, a creature of illusion. If I had the drive perhaps I could have gone far, but I didn't. I just liked to be invisible. It was all a big game when I was young, sometimes I think not even my mother realised she'd had a child. But she did, I was just I'm… well a replacement. I was fae, good old traditional fae, where a male offspring was replaced by a fae child. Or maybe I'm not a child, who knows. I don't remember life before mother but that doesn't mean there wasn't?

I left mother not long after her sons seventeenth year, and wandered into the big wide world. Oh I started off as all inquisitive foolhardy youths do, hunting cliff racers round the islands, never far from a safe cave, or an abandoned shack for when things got a bit too dangerous. I once made the mistake of taking on a pair of mating betty netch, and spent the rest of the week holed up in an abandoned ebony mine, eating rats until the things were killed by a passing soldier on his way to market. He didn't really have a chance after his battle with the netch, he was sporting injuries, suffering from the blight, that ash disease so many of the races seem to succumb to. Easy pickings really. All I had to do was sneak up behind him when he was tending to his wounds and run the blade across his neck. His blood staining the chain linked cuirass that I later found myself wearing. It didn't fit round the bosom properly, but it didn't need to. That was my first taste of human blood, imperial I think, slightly sour to the taste, but his flesh when roasted slowly over the fire was…. Well waste not want not so they say.

I want to make one thing clear now, I'm not a vampire, I don't need to drink blood to stay alive, nor do I get injured by daylight, I get injured like most other creatures, by being attacked, but I have developed a taste for the slightly fatty taste of Elf flesh. Push comes to shove I'll delight in picking over the odd imperial, and a bit of cat, lizards hit and miss. I guess that's why I avoid them so much, I don't like wasting food and I can never eat a whole argonian, not even storing it.

Anyway, I followed his path to market and delighted in my first sight of the infamous town of Balmora, seat of the mighty Hlaalu, and the ever so impressive Blades. I heard tales from here to Mournhold about the spies that made the great houses tremble in fear. How the Temlpes had stopped plotting to assassinate any pretenders to the holy thrown in fear that they themselves would be. It was still a game at this stage, and I had convinced myself that I needed to usurp this terrifying faction for the better of all concerned. And it wasn't difficult. Rumours flew all round town and all round Morrowind that Balmora held the hub of the faction, so all I had to do was hang around long enough in the right places. So I did. For months I secreted myself in the taverns and bars listening intently to conversations trying to pinpoint where in town they were based. I had already broken into the different guilds to see, but still nothing.

Then came the breakthrough. The grapevine went wild with tales of a prison ship carrying a stranger of foreign smell, Khajiit's for you, to Seyda Neen where they'd be set free for some important mission that none were supposed to know of, on orders of the Emperor.

Now I'm not a stupid fae, chances were that secret mission on behalf of the Emperor would mean Blades somewhere, either the stranger was one, or would at least meet with them once. It stood to reason surely? And even if they knew not what they were here for, they'd know which questions to ask. So what would a sensible fae do in that situation? Surely what I did… I stood around the Census offices waiting, I was questioned several times by the guards, suspicious of the stillness in me, I was asked to show my papers to prove my origin…well we couldn't let that happen, so I ran to the lighthouse where I would be able to watch in solitude. I trusted myself not to let the opportunity to slip by. It was fascinating watching the villagers wandering, seemingly as normal, occasionally the furtive glances at each other, the hushed comments drifting in the wind.

Lets say I wasn't expecting what arrived, in fact I would say it was the most unlikely creature to go on a secret mission. A small, drained frightened wood elf, stumbling into the bright sunshine, his eyes squinting trying to adjust. You could imagine the smell as his clothes stuck to him, caked in what could best be described as mud. But still I made my advances, keeping him at a far distance but managing to hop onto the silt strider just before we left Seyda. We didn't speak, mainly because I hadn't made myself known to him or the caravaner.

The strider didn't make it to Balmora…

And that my dears is how Morrowind lost it's greatest hero, it's Emperor and it's defences in a night. But back then it was just a game, and now? Now I'm serious.


	2. We've done this before

It still doesn't belong to me sniffles

Chapter Two…or not.

Odd really that I never kept up with the niceties of society. My whole aim was to reconstruct it but I couldn't even venture into it. It made me wonder sometimes, wasn't it a paradox that someone who thrived in secrecy, a myth that no-one saw more than once, that didn't even have a name, was so bent on revolutionising where others failed to.

The Dumner well they were, shall we say, all talk and no action. The Guilds all talk and no action, or all action no brain. And the Houses, well they were more concerned in squabbling between themselves. In a world where each pulled apart from the other, straining and bucking against the mould, should I be proud that I was making the world a better place. Was I crazy? Would anyone thank me, would anyone notice? If it wasn't an army threatening the people, or the blight, or rabid animals driven insane by the diseases of greed, lust and power, then it was the Daedra fiddling with the fabrics of sanity and peace. Did I even want sanity and peace, but still, what would make me any different, last any longer than Dagoth and his motley crew, or the Tribunal and their godliness.

There was once a rumour that once you died, you were reborn at a moment in time, a moment that never altered, that you replayed the same life each time making changes but always ending up with the same result. Death, for what else was there in life but death? But then you must laugh at this because if that were so, why would there by so many spirits in the world, shades of former ancestors? Why would there be the spirits who haunt the tombs, the monuments, the finery, the shrines to past heros. Unless it is all one big illusion. The mage's big conspiracy to keep us all docile while they delight in the knowledge of immortality. Or the Emperor's fiendish way to stop fighting breaking out on a wider scale. If you knew that you could enver die forever, why wouldn't you strive to get that which you most desire, the power and the glory? Or perhaps I dwell on this too long. Thoughts plague me like rats in a sewer, gnawing at my control, my drive. This was the moments when you have the epiphany and the clarity but in the next second you lose it to the fog of reason. I sound mad perhaps, driven so by Sheogorath. Vaernima who destroys the healing powers of sleep, blighting them with the dreams of dark, feverish nightmares, and Mehrunes Dagon…Perhaps the worse of all, my drive.

I'll let you into a secret…whatever you do in this life, no matter what you can always bribe your way back into favour. You can always get what you want, and you don't have to rely on the vain hope that if you are killed you come back and start again. No, gold gets you what you want and secrecy, that's what keeps you alive. In my moments of clarity, that is one thing I hold on to. If I had joined the Thieves guild, I could have made it to top nix hound. But for how long? I could have slain my way to the head of the Morag Tong, but forever would I be watching my back, waiting for a new usurper, a younger more agile, deadlier version of me to take what I have achieved. If you act alone, you don't have any false pretences that your brethren are your friends. With the gold, well guards are eager for gold, why else would they offer to forget your crimes for a few coins? Even murder can be wiped clean with a few gold pieces… I ramble too long. You want to hear more of my tales of bloodshed and woe huh. Why else would you humor me. Do you wonder why you listen? Mayhaps you want to hear how fanciful it gets, or like watching the deadly blow in an arena fight you need the blood to make your life better? Or maybe you want guidance in how to achieve obscurity in half lies and veiled facts. Or is it just a story to you?

It didn't happen as easily as I explained it last time, it couldn't do. I mean how impossible would it be to track down the Blades in one night? And how do I know I have really, they were secretive, they didn't have lists of their membership like the mages, or the fighters. The blades were by nature as invisible as me. But unlike me, not born into the ability and as such they make mistakes. No doubt why even now, seven or eight moons on from the first slaughter I'm still tracking the slippery slaughterfish down. Once the first was slain it was like all sank to ground. It reminded me of the betty netch, maybe it was just me being paranoid, but still I always kept an eye out for that stranger who would slit my throat in the heat of battle. Catching me unawares.

For a seven nights maybe I fought, tortured and strangled innocent folk desperate for knowledge of the Blades, of one they called Elone in Seyda, in the vain hope that perhaps even if the commoners knew not of her whereabouts, the good and kind Blades would appear to sease the senseless murder. Alas they did not, and Seyda became nothing but the ruins of a once prosperous village. Stripped of every living thing. I fancied that maybe the Daedra were aiding the wretches avoid capture, but even I couldn't accuse the Lords and Ladies of the spirits without just cause without expecting some retribution.

When I slept my dreams were full of shining lights, of blacked clothed murderers, of assassins in the trees, of the netch floating above me their poisonous spikes slithering up and down my body, of cliffracers pecking at my eyes, and of the rats and crabs gnawing at my body. They got their retribution fine; my heightened sense of paranoia drove me to an ebony mine where I stayed for near on two months, fighting shadows on the wall, destroying my weapons and armor, starving myself until the demons let me rest easy. It was time I couldn't afford to lose. You must realize friends that every moment I was holed away, the worse the situation got, my prize leaving me further and further behind. When I reappeared it was like no one existed. Nothing humanoid moved in the cities and villages. Not even the camps held stragglers. The young, the old, the sick the dead, nothing remained. I scoured caves and valleys, I ventured deep into the Ashlands, even visiting the place where the mighty Dagoth grew, and yet nothing.

I never gave up hope though, not once. Perhaps I went crazy for I talked all the time but never to anyone, who was there to talk to, but I chattered like excited Khajitt on moonsugar. There were several places I hadn't searched by the time the snows started, Mournhold, and the new land, to the north where it was so cold that the snows never stopped, not even in the height of the blazing light above. So where would be most probable? Mournhold was the most likely but I still made my way to Khul where the boat which I was assured would be there moons before wasn't. It didn't necessarily mean that it was out at the ice land, but still…

Anyway. Times up yet again. Only so many hours in a day alas. Any more and you'd never sleep with the ash ghouls that haunt you, or wake to the web givers slowly weaving across your mouth. Til next time.


	3. The Present

And it's still not mine

Chapter Three

Today dear hearts I fear I'll confuse you for I won't speak of the past but of the present. What use has the past got anymore? Too late to rectify it, and not even the wise take heed for the future, so it is best forgotten do you not think? Unfounded accusation I think I hear you say, of course we take heed from past mistakes. When you burn yourself on the campfire you learn not to stick your fingers in the flames, or when fighting you learn to take precautions, well if your lucky you do.

No my dears, I'm talking about something more important than that. Do you really think that one persons actions can affect the whole? Does Vivec feel when you stub your toe, or Trebonius curse when one of your spells goes awry, or Sugar Lips end up clapped in chains when you get caught of petty pick pocketing? Well she might if you were an unscrupulous beast who felt it necessary to drag the whole ship down with you. Bad example. But surely you get the point. Never think yourself more important than you are.

I'll give you an example, I'll spin a tale so that you shall understand properly that you alone can not change the world. That it takes more than one to revolutionise, that not even I can bring about great changes for all my boasting and bragging. And as with all great stories I'll start with a beautiful lady…

Once upon a time, in the land of the Dumner, a prison ship carrying two prisoners and more guards than necessary for such lowly stock, moored up to the tiny village of Seyda Neen. The ship was badly damaged following a storm which had battered and rampaged throughout the night, tearing apart it's mast, and leaving the once great beauty limping into the small backwater. I can't tell you what was happening inside, but only one prisoner was escorted out, the other, well other than being allowed to stretch his legs round the lighthouse was quickly stuffed back below decks, no longer than an hour had passed before it set sail, I don't know where, we were never told where the prisoners went, to stop people breaking in is my guess. But anyway, the lady was escorted into the Census office, and wandered through at her own sweet time before exiting into the wide world. I believe she had some gold, I could hear it from my perch, but that could have been the rusty dagger they had supplied her with for… shall we say protection. In fact she was next to naked, only sporting a rather fetching band and nappy. She wasn't at the age where the delightful bosom that she sported sagged to her midriff like some dancers. I digress.

She spoke to a few commoners, who stared at her, turned away in disgust at the lack of clothing, or at the weak attempts at flattery. But eventually she was directed to the Trade House, and to the Strider just on the brow of a small hill to the East. Under the guidance of a Guard, she visited the Trade House first, and with less coinage then she went in, appeared clothed in a simple gown and shoes.

It should have taken three hours from Seyda to Balmora, should have you might note. Should have taken three hours. IT should have cost a few gold pieces, but I snuck on in my way, they didn't see me until just before the Odai Plateau. They had been laughing between themselves, gossiping, the caravener had warmed under the influence of flin, and the lady, Talbia, she seemed so eager to talk to a woman, her whole body seemed to soak up the attention, the conversation, the company, like muck sponge. Her face was animated as she questioned Fiorngeld about her background, about her trade, she even managed to winkle a few secrets out. Information that proved to be lucrative.

We slowed down to allow the beast time to water, to rest before the last push, and as neither were rushed the dawdled, get more and more merry, until they fell asleep under a tree, snoring quietly. You want me to say I slit their throats while they slept, while they were vulnerable, there red blood staining the simple clothes, dying it with their essence. Sending them to a life thereafter of haunting the spot where they met there demise. You desire me to tell you that I took out the giant's legs, maiming it before the death blow, before dicing it up and scattering it to the gathering nix. Roasting the remainder for myself, dining on a feast of giant bug. And it sounds glorious and worthy of one such as me. So for now I'll let you come to your own conclusions. But I assure you that never again were the three seen. So did I manage to make two humans and one rather large strider vanish into thin air or did I slaughter them?

You might be wondering at this point, what is the point of this example? Well let me tell you. Talbia's mission in life was to the Nerevarine, I'm sure you all know who that is or was, if you listened to the temples and your elders you would. Who do you think she was sent to bring about the downfall of? The Sixth House… And yet do you see them now? Are they infecting our towns and cities? Do they prey upon the weak and infirm. No, because the destruction of one person did not alter the strands of fate and destiny.

So what about me, I know, you think that I am the one person who believes they can and I assure you I'm not the only one. Everyone believes it about themselves, we are all that self important. But some of us aren't meant to be dictated to by fate, by the Daedra, by the governments, by anyone. Some of us are meant to dance on the threads, plucking and weaving without care for we are the truly enlightened.

But you've made a liar of me, I promised not to dwell in the past but in the present, where we all belong. You allow me to digress without need, and to waste the precious time that we all have. The present, the present, that is what I need to tell you about, it has a most pressing need.

As you all may have heard if you haven't been slumming it in the Ashland's, Feligotte and Thostas have wed, uniting Hlaalu and Redoran alike, which you may think is beneficial to all. No more Telvanni secrecy, holed away in towers tall, deigning us with their presence when they have absorbed enough magicka not to die. Now wasn't that very cynical of me. Of course they were a great House, how else would they have prospered, but not very forward thinking. Perhaps if they had sought to make a match with another House, then the tale would have changed? But it wasn't to be. So now in Vvardenfell there is just two, united. A monopoly so to speak, which isn't the most liberating of experiences as you might have felt. Prices have gone up, and unfortunately for the Redoran, they aren't as needed. For if there are not inter House wars and treachery, then who will they fight. The Blight has gone, and the Sixth House felled. What threat is there? So who has prospered most?

I happened to be in the vicinity of a disgruntled Nordic female who was tearing her way from Moonmouth Fort in rage, and as she passed to hunt wild guar and netch, I just happened to overhear her. Perhaps I followed her for a few hours but that is by the by. It appears that after the day of destruction her and her husband had wreaked upon the innocent Telvanni, things hadn't exactly gone her way. Thostas had played it meek and mild for the first week or so, wallowing in the glory but always giving her full credit. But there was something that didn't ring true in all of his protestations of love. It would appear that this match was not for love, and that Thostas might have got too carried away in his role and alerted her to some small inconsistencies.

The value of goods had rocketed over the past moon, but none of it seemed to be shared, it was all going on "necessary expenses", but it was never explained where it was actually going. Thostas had done the equivalent of patting her on the head and telling her to go off and play soldier some more. Which didn't go down well. For some unexplained reason the Hlaalu Canton had expanded to the Telvanni, surrounding the Redoran, until Thostas asked politely if the Redoran could be moved, temporarily of course to the Foreign Quarter, just until the new canton was built. So the Redorans were moved into at the expense of new comers. Which didn't sit well really.

In Vivec riots broke out, leaving the Redoran House damaged, they began to move out, retreating to Ald'ruhn, away from the ever increasing Hlaalu influence. But even there seeds of doubt began to sprout. Feligotte was losing their trust, she couldn't stop the invasion, she was just letting Thostas conqueror more and more territory without putting up a fight. She was no longer the mighty leader in their eyes, her Nordic heritage no longer an asset, but a burden as the insults began, stupid nord was perhaps the politest of them all. But still she didn't hear them for long as finally at the time of my meeting with her, not one moon after the Telvanni left, were the last remainders of her Great House, leaving for the mainland. Leaving her behind to the mercy of her tyrannical husband, whose soft words and meek appearance had lulled her into a false sense of security.

I believe she committed suicide, or so Thostas claimed. He didn't seem terribly concerned when she vanished for a few weeks, almost like he knew what had happened. Who is to say he didn't, she had been aware of assassins ever since the Telvanni Canton, but then that was nothing out of the norm.

Anyway, where there was once three, then two and then one. What would the lessons of the past have taught Thostas if he had paid heed? But that is for the future and not for the present.


	4. Dreamscape

Alas I own it not

Chapter four - Dreamscape

I was shamed my dears into revealing more. It was the uttermost torture of them all I assure you, but still I survived and agreed politely and decided to speak more of the tales of old and new. So where shall I start today? Last time I left you with the story of how Talbia was persuaded to never be seen again, and Feligotte committed suicide.

So I guess my story today is one that I dreamt not so many moons ago. It is one that haunted me for a full suns passing, it has not much meat, but what it does has the knowledge that I am in fact a lonely soul. I must be to long for one such as he for so long. Or maybe I didn't, maybe he just happened to be passing in the realms of Vaernima as I was? Maybe that is why dreams are full of people, the spirits of those who are asleep with you? Or is that too romantic for me. Excuse me, a fly must have flown in my mouth, or grit in my eyes, I can't help them soaking themselves… It has occurred with more and more frequency recently, ever since that dream. The dream where I found that thing.

That thing, sometimes when I get like this I wonder who I converse with and why I wasn't long ago slain in battle. How ludicrously vague, how scarily insane I must appear to anyone passing us. A crone staring in the water, constantly edging closer before ending another tale of misery and woe and vanishing off for another length of time. Indiscriminate of time, weather, emotions. Just when I get to the edge, when the cliff is no more, when the rocks call I shall never go to my home. When I'm here I forget where I go when I'm not. One day I wont go back there, one day you and I shall meet and our meeting will be eventful… colourful. I am crazy, like the Dreamers who wandered aimlessly, threatening and then forgetting as they move onto another spot. Going round and round in circles, like cliff racers waiting for the day when someone will take offence and they can be martyrs to their cause. No that isn't fair; they never believed that, they were under enchantment. And my excuse?

My dream… My blessing from Vaernima, may she forever haunt me with the dream. Have you ever awoken with the longing to go back to sleep, to rekindle the joy the peace you felt, the pure thrill of it, where everything is safe? And then when you achieve bliss to be woken once more and try as you might you can never regain it. Perhaps that is the worst. And every night since I have tried to force Her to bring it to me, I have pleaded, and raged, cajoled and worshiped. I offered blessings a plenty and my allegiance. But I am not a favored one of the Daedra, never have been and most assuredly never will be… They will never warm to me, and no matter how many jewels I place upon Their altars and gold I donate to Their followers it will never be enough. I guess you would say deserved? I slaughtered many a pilgrim and monk, cursed the Daedra until I was blue of lips as I was in face. But still, They bear grudges far longer than is necessary. But I shall speak no ill. Not yet.

From what I keep dear to my heart, I was in a room, with him. He was my boss that much I remember, he was wearing elegant clothes, the finest material, reds and golds, clinging to his firm lean body. His hair dark and thick, short and soft to the touch, my fingers just glided through it, but when I grabbed a hunk of it well… it was just heaven. His lips were so soft to the touch, so forceful and demanding, satin, taking more and more. He was medium height, making my head tilt back as he leaned down to punish me with those lips. Eyes piercing ice blue, staring straight through me as if I wasn't there, as if I was just not there, if he did it so often that he no longer cared who he dominated.

What I remember starts when we are in this room, a light room, staring out of a window, I just finished reading a book, a romantic story, and he was there watching his fiancé play with their child, the two were busy picking anther, Kaltive's head was spun gold, glowing like a halo around her perfect body, her eyes shining daisies as Lisettes boony wee hand ham fistedly plucked at more and more flowers. He was watching them so intently, until I put down my book, I was as quiet as I could, my heart full of love and need, desiring what the characters had achieved, pure bliss. I disturbed him and he frowned, his face creasing in disapproval, and I hurt, I hurt because he disapproved of me, this man so glorious, he didn't like me.

His eyes flicked down to the book, and when he spoke…oh his voice, it melted my soul, I was so in love with this man that I'd only just met. He said "they are a waste of time, it never works out like that, there is no such thing as true love. Only passion and lust. I am not marrying Kaltive for love but for the sake of our child, a child born out of wanton need. You'd do better ridding yourself of such rubbish" I just stared at him, so long that he shook me and asked if I was of sound mind. And then he let go and turned round, letting me take a breath. My body needing to reach out and touch him. My hand finding his shoulder, fingers gently touching as if he wasn't real. I was scared if I touched too hard he'd break, or not be there. He ignored me, for as long as it took for me to take a small step forward. And there he kissed me, infront of the window. Bruising my lips, taking what he wanted, torturing me in the sweetest of ways. His child and her mother just out of the window, playing happily.

That was when I woke. And when I slipped back into that world, I ached with need, my body thrusting up against his, trying to entwine with him, fingers threading into his hair, my eyes on his family, my body so wanton and needy. All the while falling deeper and deeper under his spell.

I searched for so long to find him. To find the man who makes me complete. Who doesn't love me, doesn't notice me until I make that imposition on his life and then only so he can get what he wants. I ache for that man, my whole body craves him like the vampire does blood. I need him.

I wish you could speak friend, tell me how to reach him, how to sleep and endless sleep, to dream of being his for eternity.


	5. And you are?

It's not mine

Its been awhile since I last visited you, oh fair one. I forgot about you I'm afraid, until I found myself here. I was in the midst of the market, and then I remember being here. Looking down on you, watching as your eyes meet mine in sorrow, knowing me so well that it scares me. If I could I would stop coming here, stop giving away my being, giving you power over me, stop you making me flinch in pain with those soft grey eyes. The way tears drip as I speak.

I know you must hate me, loathe me. I interrupt you from your solitude, the waves that cease as I appear, the stillness, the lack of life when I turn up. But I can't help it you draw me closer and closer. You are worse than the enchanters, you have the power of the guilty.

How many lives have you claimed, more than mine I'm sure, the lost souls who wander to close, who misjudge the strength of the earth beneath them, all to catch a glimpse of you. But I see you here, inside, knowing that you wait for me, knowing what you look like.

I don't know what you want of me today though, I can't tell you anymore of my dream, it still hasn't visited me, and my heart is still sick with need, it would only be cruel to rake over thoses coals. But you aren't known for your warmth are you.

So what do you want me to say, would you like to know of my days away from here? How I spent the last moon? Shall I tell you of my occupation, the one you made me get? Or how about my visit to the cold isles. You must be wondering I'm sure, how now after there was no one for several years the isle is populated once more. Hadn't I scared them all away? They think I am dead. They know I am dead, they believe I am dead. In the very core of their beliefs I am dead, every child knows about me, books have been written about me, myths told, songs sung. I am as famous as the great Vivec. Impressive isn't it, that one such as me, who wouldn't be recognised by even my own mother is known by all. I've even joined in on the cheers as the celebration of my death is celebrated. Only the Daedra know that it is all lies, but they will not let my secret be known.

When they went to the cold isle, and when I say they, I mean everyone, they began to lose faith, they began to not need them. Magicka didn't vanish without them, nor did their fighting abilities. Even the blessings didn't vanish. Oh a few stayed faithful, but that was more out of tradition than belief. They couldn't understand why the Daedra hadn't destroyed me, why they hadn't ended my madness, my cruelty. And it started people off, remembering the past troubles, why the Daedra for all their mighty words, why hadn't they stepped in and done something instead of leaving it up to the people to deal with. So they lost faith, and the Daedra didn't like it, no one paid tribute to them, they lost the love and respect. Even when they appeared before the people, there was no longer the flocks of people gathering round to gaze upon them. Instead people turned away and left, disgusted.

So we did a deal, maybe that is the final straw why they will never leave me alone? That they needed me a lot more than I needed them. They needed me dead, by their hands to instil fear in their peoples hearts, to win back the respect.

I know you don't like me talking about them like that, and I admit they are things of power and beauty but I lost my standing long ago. So they killed me in all but my reality. And so the people returned, obedient and respectful, living with the knowledge that they were blessed with strong powerful Daedra, and that the threat of me was dead.

And my punishment, my punishment was to lose my self. I guess I don't know what to do any more, I just – I just need to stop.

A man passed me by the other day. He told me to stop lying, that he had listened to me come here and lie the whole time through. He didn't believe a word I said, but you believe me don't you, you believe me fair one, you know who I am, you know what I did, how I did it, who I am, what I am. You believe me, you believe me, I believe me, so you must, you do and you must. I should never have listened to that man. He was deluded.

I don't know if I should even tell you what he said to me, he told me that, well that he had never heard of me, that he hadn't even heard of the Sixth House, that there was no such thing as the mass slaughter, or the war of the houses, that I made it all up. But what would that make me. If I made up everything, if my life was so miserable that I had to pretend to be this evil creature.

Fin

* * *

Thats it for now. Though who knows crazy fae may return with more ramblings of crazed lunacy. 


End file.
